


Something about Harry

by jennandanica, valuna



Series: A Distance Erased [2]
Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica, https://archiveofourown.org/users/valuna/pseuds/valuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karl's still not sure how he feels about this. About giving Harry another fucking chance to shut him down or send him home but hell, lunch doesn't mean anything and he can always walk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something about Harry

**Author's Note:**

> The year is 1997 and the place is Auckland, New Zealand. Harry's a director/actor and Karl's an actor. This is _not_ Est backstory and is in no way canon for that game.

A week passes. No, maybe it's two. Harry loses track of time easily, his mind scattered to the winds of creation, and then he's needing to track down Joel and Jed and the easiest place to do that is the Renaissance lots. Even if they're filming current episodes, the guys hang around the sets, so he takes his bike and heads over to the lot. He's easily waved through by security and drives over to the studio the guard said they were filming in.

Karl's hot and tired but they're almost done for the day. He takes another sip of water, resisting the urge to run a hand over his face as he watches what must be the sixth or seventh take of the same damn scene. _Christ_. Fucking amateurs.

Harry slides the bike into a space next to the set. It's not marked, but it's not unmarked either, so it's legitimate. He walks onto the set, looking around. No sign of who he's trying to find, but there's someone he hasn't been looking for. "Great," he mutters, sighting Karl with water bottle in hand. He hadn't been thinking much of Karl -- in fact, he has to rattle his brain for a moment to remember the name. That could have to do with Harry's eyes going more to Karl's legs than his face. Caesar's skirt accentuates them. _Nope. Haven't been thinking much of him, but haven't not been thinking of him either._

Taking a deep breath, Harry heads over and steps in beside Karl, almost brushing Karl's arm with his elbow. "See you got home all right," he murmurs, voice too low to be picked up by set mics yards away.

Great. Just what he needs. Karl would recognize that voice anywhere. "Yeah. I made it home fine," he says, quickly glancing over at Harry and then back at the scene in front of him.

"Good. Hate to think of you out late at night, all alone." Again, the words are muttered, Harry consciously keeping his voice soft. There's something about Karl that has Harry sliding naturally into a lead role, almost that of baiting the other man.

Karl looks straight at Harry this time. Leans over, voice kept every bit as low and soft. "Just what the fuck do you think you're playing at?"

"Playing at? Life's a game, Karl." The name slides from Harry's gone with a decided twist. "We play at everything." Harry grins. "You have much longer to film today? I need to find a couple idiots, but I could buy you lunch if you're interested."

_If you're interested_. And there's the rub. He's definitely interested. He's not just sure why. "We're almost done. Hell, I _am_ done. By the time they get finished up with this, they'll call it a day anyway." He shrugs. "Sure. Lunch sounds good."

"Great. You get undressed and meet me back here in 15. That'll give me time to deliver a message." _He's interested. That's a good thing. I think._ Harry straightens, rolling his neck, and walks off across the set to where he's spied one-half of his quarry.

Karl watches Harry for a moment then heads in the opposite direction. Washes off his make-up, tousles his hair and changes into torn jeans and a plain white t-shirt that's clearly seen better days. He's still not sure how he feels about this. About giving Harry another fucking chance to shut him down or send him home but hell, lunch doesn't mean anything and he can always walk.

It doesn't take Harry long to find Jed, relay his message and get back, and all the time he's wondering what the fuck he's doing. It's not like he needs any complications in his life. And Karl -- Harry looks up, sees Karl walking out of wardrobe, jeans torn and t-shirt perfectly capable of being ripped off without too much effort -- oh, hell, Karl is most definitely potential for complication. "My bike's over there," he says casually as he passes. "You do ride, I assume."

"Yeah, I ride," Karl says, brain helpfully supplying unnecessary comments on just what he rides. "You carry an extra helmet or am I taking my life into my own hands here?" His eyes flicker over Harry's arse -- _nice_ \-- as he follows him to the bike.

"They're mutually exclusive?" Harry grabs the helmet from his bike and hands it to Karl. "Just the one. You can have it. Protect that pretty head."

Karl laughs, taking the helmet from Harry. "Oh, now it's my turn to ask -- _you_ that hard to manage?"

"Nah. I'm real easy, Karl." Harry swings his leg over the bike, settles in, looking back over his shoulder. "Get on and find out."

Fastening the chin strap, Karl settles in behind Harry, pressing close and wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. "Like this?" he asks, with a brush of lips over the side of Harry's neck. "Or you want me to hold onto the back?"

Harry shifts, something akin to a squirm, Karl's hands pressing nicely into his stomach and Karl's breath hot on his neck. _Fuck, this is gonna be good._ "Right there's fine," he says, scooting back a couple inches, turning over the engine.

Karl smiles at the shift, his jeans tightening nicely. "So where are we going?" he calls out.

"Hole in the wall on the bay side," Harry says when they come to a stop, slowly making the turn onto the main road. "Good sandwiches, great brew."

"Sounds great. You live near there?" Karl shouts over the roar of the engine, careful not to deafen Harry. He'd almost expected the other man to say fuck lunch and take him straight home. Can't decide whether he's disappointed or not.

Harry half-turns his head. "That a hint, Karl?" He nearly collides with Karl's mouth before quickly turning his attention back to the street. Maybe he should bypass lunch, but Harry's hungry and sex when he has food on his mind is never satisfying.

"Maybe." Karl shrugs, wrapping his arms even tighter around Harry, chin pressed to his shoulder and falling quiet as he enjoys the ride.

It's easy to just ignore Karl -- okay, that's a lie since his hands are in close enough proximity to Harry's cock to keep Harry's balance slightly left of center -- and Harry makes the left turn. Road to the bar. On down it and another couple turns and they'd be at his house. A touch of resolve washes over Harry's brain. Karl can just be patient.

Karl _is_ being patient. Lulled by the hum of the engine, the passing scenery, the wind whipping against them and the feel of Harry in his arms, Karl's being more than patient. He's actually almost peaceful -- a rarity for him -- and he's making the most of it.

_Haven't done this in awhile. Nice._ Harry swings the bike into the restaurant's parking lot. It's nothing special, looks like a shack from the outside. He cuts the engine and steadies the bike, but doesn't move. It's too nice a feel, Karl's hands around him.

Karl doesn't move either, conscious of the balance they seem to have achieved between them and reluctant to disturb it. But finally he says softly, "We going in?"

"Yeah," Harry says, just as soft, nearly a whisper, "but we'll make it a quick lunch. Just enough time to get better acquainted. You off first."

Stepping off the bike, Karl unsnaps the helmet, runs a hand through his hair. "You take this in with you or leave it with the bike?" Wondering when he last felt this fucking nervous making conversation with someone. Harry unsettling him for reasons he can't even begin to define.

Harry shrugs and pulls himself off the bike, running his hands down over his jeans, straightening them out. "Just leave it." He moves away from the bike, away from Karl, heading toward the shack's front porch. "Didn't think before. You're not a vegetarian or anything weird, are you?" He pauses, hand on the door. "Not that it rules out sex, but it's gonna make lunch rough."

"I might be something weird but definitely not a vegetarian," Karl says, grateful for the chance to kid around. "I love meat." Well-aware of the innuendo.

"I hope so," Harry says, opening the door and motioning Karl in. He doesn't let the innuendo pass unreturned. "Then you won't mind eating a lot of it."

Karl chuckles softly. "We're horrible," he says, shaking his head as he moves past Harry and into the restaurant. "You have a favourite table or do we wait to be seated?" he asks, looking around.

"That one at the back." Harry motions Karl toward the far corner of the restaurant, then waves at the girl behind the bar. "Two brews, Cat," he calls out, "when you get a sec." He follows Karl and pulls out a chair in the corner, settling in. "I'd recommend the burger, unless you're real hungry, then Fred does a damned good side of beef."

"Burger sounds fine," Karl says, watching Harry. "So... why'd you tell me to go home the other night?" Suddenly thinking that he really doesn't want to go any further without knowing.

"That's simple, Karl. You slid across the line, pushed. Without knowing you shouldn't, of course." Harry leans his chair back. He sits here for a reason. The wall's at his back and there's just enough space to up on the chair's legs and not tip over. "Still, I wasn't going to pursue it after that."

Karl shakes his head, amused, running his tongue over his teeth. "And what's changed your mind?" Nodding and thanking the waitress as she brings their beers, drops a couple of ragged menus on their table.

"Curiosity." Harry takes a sip of beer, pushes aside the menu. He knows what he wants. Orders the same thing all the time. Mostly. "Wonder what you look like on your knees, how well you beg, how loud you scream."

"What makes you so certain I'm gonna be the one on my knees?" Karl asks, flipping open his menu. More for something to concentrate on. He's already decided on the burger, fries. "Maybe you're pushing, sliding across that line right now."

"I don't think so. But if I'm pushing, there's the door." Harry nods toward the front of the restaurant as he pulls his keys from his pocket and slides them to the center of the table. "You can take the bike, leave it at the set."

_Arrogant bastard_. Karl's tempted to leave. Really fucking tempted. But curiosity wins out. "I'm not going anywhere. Yet. You might want to leave 'em there though."

"Not pulling back on the offer, Karl." Harry looks up, Cat having walked up. "I'm having the burger, babe," he says, "complete works, heavy order of chips. And this one's on my bill, too."

"I'll have the same, please," Karl says, finally taking a good long drink of his beer. He turns back to Harry when the waitress has gone. "If you want someone easy, I'm not it. I don't go down easy. I don't behave. And I _do_ push. All the fucking time. If that's going to bother you then I probably _should_ leave."

Harry doesn't say anything. He quietly sips his beer, studying Karl's face in-between washes of the stout taste over his tongue. "You're doing a great job of selling yourself. Pushing. Don't behave. Won't go down easy." He grins, sets down his beer. "I think I'll take you home, chain you to the wall, play with you awhile."

Karl grins, shaking his head in amused disbelief. Side-steps the comment completely. "So you said something about Dani being in your movie. You direct, produce?"

"Direct. Write. Sing. Dance. Fuck." Harry cocks his head. "I'm multi-talented. How about you? More than a pretty face?"

"I like to think so," Karl says. "Although career-wise, I just act." He takes another sip of beer. "I surf, dive, rock-climb, read a lot. And fuck."

"Okay, I surf, too, and read. Like Russian music." Harry thinks a moment, grins. "What's the longest you've gone without coming?"

"On purpose?" Karl asks, eyes flashing with mischief.

Harry laughs. "Of course, on purpose. Like getting hard and intentionally not coming. That sort of thing, Karl."

"Well, there's just not tossing yourself off and then there's someone making you not come," Karl points out. "In the case of the latter, a week." He smiles. "You?"

"Six days, 13 hours, 24 minutes and 12 seconds," Harry says without thinking about. He looks up, shrugs. "He was a bit of a timing addict."

Karl laughs. "Sounds like it." He pauses, biting at his bottom lip, watching Harry. "You live alone?"

Cat shows up with their burgers, setting the plates on the table with little interruption of their conversation. "Yeah. Down the road. House on the hill." He picks up a potato, slides it into his mouth. "Eat up and I'll show you."

Groaning and rolling his eyes with the first bite of his burger, Karl murmurs, "You weren't kidding about this place." He's starving and it's apparent in the way he digs into his meal, falling silent until he's managed to polish off half. Up well before dawn to run and then off to the set, he often forgets to eat until someone actually puts food in front of him. "Ever _not_ lived alone?" he asks.

"Yeah," Harry says between bites. "Lived with mum and dad till they got divorced, then mum and my brother." He knows that's not what Karl means, but the boy should learn to be specific with his questions.

"Ha ha funny," Karl says, tossing a bunched up napkin at Harry's head. "You know what I mean."

Harry dodges the napkin, letting it fall to the floor. "I know what you mean. I've lived with a couple guys. One at a time." He eats a few more bites of the burger, nearly finishing it off. "And to pre-empt the strike, one of them was my dom. Trust you know what that means. The others weren't."

Karl eats the rest of his burger while Harry's talking. Starts in on his chips. "Yeah, I know," he says. "So you're gay then?" He grins. "All the way, I mean."

"Guess so. I shagged a girl once. Just out of curiosity. I mean, can't say you don't like something if you don't try it." Harry takes a few quick sips of his beer. "Didn't take. So, yeah, all the way gay. You? Or still straddling the fence?"

"Still straddling," Karl says, "but I prefer men." He grins, pushing his plate away. "They can take more."

"Well, that just begs the question, Karl." Harry takes another chip off his plate. "How much you willing to take?"

Karl's not even sure why they're getting into all of this. It's not like he'll see Harry again anyway. "I _have_ taken just about everything but I prefer to avoid permanent marks given the career and all." He signals to the waitress for their bill. "You?"

"That's understandable," Harry says, reaching up and pulling Karl's wrist back down to the table. "Wouldn't consider marking you like that. Not this soon." He lingers a moment, then draws his hand away, putting it into his pocket and pulling out a couple bills, leaving them on the table. "That'll cover it. C'mon, gonna take you home now."

_Not this soon?_. Karl shakes his head, following Harry from the restaurant back to the bike. Oh, well. It doesn't matter. Harry's not the first to think he'll be different. He waits til Harry's on the bike before taking up his spot behind him, hands slid around his waist, the feel of Harry in his arms _too_ fucking good. "Thanks for lunch," he yells as Harry starts the engine.

"You're welcome," Harry shouts back, pulling away from the restaurant, taking a left instead of the right that would head back into town. _Taking you home, Karl. My home._ He picks up speed, covering the few miles in what seems like seconds, swinging onto the unpaved road leading to his house. He pulls in next to the front porch and stops, putting his feet onto the ground.

Karl's jeans tighten the moment Harry makes the turn away from town. And for a moment he thinks about objecting. Asking Harry what the hell he thinks Karl is. But he knows what Harry thinks. And he's right. And if he gets a decent burger and a good hard fuck out of this afternoon, he'll be happy. "This your place?" he asks when Harry stops the bike.

"Yeah." The house isn't big, more of a bungalow style than anything, large covered front porch. "Belonged to my dad. I got it when he died." There's a garden off to the right and from the back of the house you can see the ocean. "You get off, you can see the inside."

"When'd he die?" Karl asks, getting off the bike and hooking the helmet over the back.

"Three years ago. He and my mum divorced when I was a kid," Harry says, getting off the bike and heading to the steps. One. Two. On the porch and unlocking the door. "Mum's in Wellington, at university, and I've got a brother, Stephen." He grins, motions for Karl to enter. "Let me know when I hit the TMI line."

Karl grins back, stepping into the house and taking a quick look round. "No such thing as TMI where I'm concerned," he says, wondering if Harry'll notice at some point that Karl's not given him any information -- other than sexual -- about himself. "Sorry 'bout your dad."

"No big deal. He'd had a great life, left a damned big legacy for his sons to deal with." Harry walks in, shuts the door and tosses his keys on the small table to his right. "Your family local?"

Karl nods. "Yeah." Looks round a bit more. "It's nice," he says. "What kind of legacy?" Quickly but casually deflecting any more questions.

The dodge is obvious, and Harry thinks for a minute, counting back and tracking the two conversations they've had. "Historian. Wrote about the islands." He heads to the kitchen. "Want another beer?"

Sinclair. Historian. Karl puts two and two together as he follows Harry. "Your dad's Keith Sinclair?"

"Yeah." Harry opens the fridge, pulls out two bottles, passing one to Karl. "You have one? Father."

"Thanks." Karl opens the beer and takes a sip before answering. "Yeah. He owns a leather goods company."

"That can come in handy. Mother? Siblings?" Harry opens his bottle and takes a long drink. "Or are family details something I get only after I've tied you up?"

Karl laughs. "My parents are still married and I have one sister. I'm not in touch with any of them so I don't usually talk about them either." He leans against the counter, teeth digging harder into his bottom lip as he studies the label on his beer for a minute.

Harry takes a step closer. "Let me guess. They don't know their boy's gay." He touches his hand to Karl's neck, slides it around, letting his thumb slide up into Karl's hair. "Or they do and they don't like it."

_Oh, fuck_. Karl's eyes actually close with the touch, Harry's voice soothing in the oddest fucking way. "The second," he murmurs, thankful Harry's made it so easy to sidestep the rest of it. The last thing he needs is anyone feeling sorry for him.

The last thing Harry's going to feel is pity. He's too familiar with the territory. "At least you have a sister who can give them the proper legacy," he murmurs, stepping even closer, infiltrating Karl's personal space. _Two gay sons don't quite work as well._ The kiss is almost not there when it happens, a whisper of words in a brush over lips.

_Now who's pushing_, Karl thinks, the softness of the kiss seeming almost more invasive than something harder, more demanding. And he's tempted to pull away, make his excuses and leave, but he doesn't. Just lets Harry kiss him.

_Good boy. Don't pull back. This is too good._ Harry deepens the kiss. Gently. Softly. Tongue barely parting lips, not pushing but coercing perhaps, his fingers sliding into Karl's hair, holding his head steady against the continuing invasion.

Karl moans into the kiss, tongue meeting Harry's, body pressing closer, the urge to bolt increasing.

There's a decided tension in Karl's body, one that confuses Harry. He breaks the kiss with a whisper. "Do you want this?"

Does he? Christ. It should be easier than this. He's here. Being kissed by a man he wants. That's easy enough. But this. This isn't what he thought he was signing up for. A quick hard fuck. Bruises. Being hurt. Yes. All of that. But not this. Not this... intimacy. But it's easier to say yes than explain all the reasons no. "Yeah, I do," he whispers back.

"Good." Harry brushes Karl's lips again, setting his bottle on the counter. He puts his hands on Karl's waist and turns him. "Would hate to think I'm wasting my time." He leans in, kisses the side of Karl's neck. "Hands on the counter, boy."

"Don't call me boy." Karl's voice is low but firm, body stiffening. "I don't like it and I don't respond to it."

"Fine." Harry puts the reminder away. He may or may not remember it. Doesn't matter. "Still want your hands on the counter." He slides his hands around Karl's waist, to the front of the jeans, working the buttons undone. "Karl."

Hands on the counter he can do. And does. Palms pressed flat, cock already hardening as Harry gets his jeans open.

"You just don't like the word 'boy' or the whole concept?" Harry slides his fingers through the open fly and rubs just the pads of their tips over Karl's cock.

Karl's not sure how to answer that. He's never liked the word boy but something tells him he could get used to hearing it from Harry's mouth. Not that he'd ever admit it. But the whole concept. Fuck. "Depends on what you mean," he says with a low groan, pressing into Harry's touch. "Never fucking liked formal. Not the names. Not the structure."

"How about the submission? Going down, under." Harry strokes lightly, keeping it just shy of really rubbing. "You do that?"

"If you put me there," Karl murmurs, meaning _if you /can/_. He groans again, fingers curling against the countertop.

Harry knows what Karl's thinking. He's met men like Karl before, those who want to go down but won't admit it. "You don't think I can," he whispers, breathing out against Karl's throat, following words with a lick. Subtle movements take them down as easily as the fight. Maybe more easily. Harry wraps his fingers around Karl's cock from underneath. He squeezes. "Think again."

Karl grunts, hips jerking with the squeeze. "You're not the first to try, Harry. And you sure as hell won't be the last." Not sure Harry knows just how much he'd like someone to prove him wrong.

"I beg to differ, Karl. I _will_ be the last. And you're going to go down." Harry drags his hand back up the length of Karl's cock, keeping the grip tight. "And if you're very good," he says, words terse, "I might return the favour." He licks again. Throat, then ear, nibbling on the lobe.

Harry's arrogance should turn Karl off. Should have him walking away from this. But instead he finds himself groaning, eyes closed, reacting to Harry's touch, voice, words. Wanting more. _Push me_, he thinks. _Push me and we'll see_.

"I know you, Karl. You like this." It's not a question. "You won't admit it." The stroke's firm, but not harsh. "It's too gentle. You're used to rough fucks." Harry kisses Karl's neck, nuzzles under the shirt collar, licks and rakes his teeth over the skin. "To being used and left, using and leaving."

_Don't fucking know me_. The words on the tip of Karl's tongue. But Harry's right. It's been so long since anyone's touched him like this. Since he's _let_ anyone touch him like this. "No..." he whispers, beginning to turn away, but it's not stop. It's not really no at all.

"No." Harry tightens his grip, fingers curling in against themselves at the base of Karl's cock. He presses in, full body against Karl's back. "You don't move, not until I say." He never raises his voice, not above the whisper. "I'll give you what you want, Karl. The rough, the pain. But it's on my terms. Understand?"

Slowly, Karl nods. _Understand_.

"Good. I think we should move to a flat surface." Harry kisses Karl's neck again. Sweet, gentle attention. "I want you naked, spread out proper where I can do with better attention to detail. Bedroom's through that door," he nods to his left, "and then straight to the back."

Again there's an instant in which Karl wants to back away. Say he's changed his mind and leave. Because there's this weird feeling that he's committing to something bigger than this, than this moment, if he goes through that door and he's not sure at all how he feels about that. But it's only an instant and then he finds himself asking "You coming? Or am I supposed to go ahead?"

There's a hesitancy Harry doesn't like, something in Karl's voice he finds disturbing. Maybe he's pushing too hard, too soon. It's not like he _has_ to have it today. It's on the tip of his tongue to say _Why don't you just leave_ but it doesn't come out. "Right behind you," he murmurs.

Following Harry's directions, Karl finds the bedroom easily enough. Once there, he pulls his t-shirt over his head, drops his jeans. Not making any show of it. "Where d'you want me?"

"On the bed. Comfortable." Harry pulls off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans. "Think you can manage that, Karl? At least a little more at ease."

Karl smirks. "Yeah, I can manage," he says, settling on his back in the middle of the bed, watching Harry. Wondering what it is about the older man that unsettles him so.

Stripping out of the jeans, Harry tosses them aside and climbs onto the end of the bed. He bends down, braces his hands on either side of Karl's thighs and licks at the inside of the right knee. "Do I upset you, Karl?" He kisses the kneecap, glances up, smiles. "Disconcert perhaps?"

"No," Karl says, meeting Harry's gaze head on. _Liar_. "What makes you think that?"

Harry licks from knee to crease of groin into hip, pulls up. "Just a feeling, like you're going to bolt if I turn away."

Karl chuckles softly. Bravado putting on a good face. "Why would you care? You sent me away the first night." His cock twitching hard as Harry's tongue travels over his skin.

"Yeah, I did." Harry rubs his cheek against Karl's cock. "Came back, though."

It's hard to think clearly with Harry's cheek against his cock, the perfect scrape of stubble scrambling his thoughts, but Karl manages to get the words out. "Don't give me that. You just happened to be on set."

"Not really. I have access to the call sheet. Knew you were filming today." Harry grins, rubs the corner of his mouth over the tip of Karl's cock, tongue flicking out against the hardening flesh. "Fate's for the less fortunate."

_Liar_. The word sits on the tip of Karl's tongue, daring him to give voice to it, but he decides he doesn't care. Harry wants him here, now, and that's good enough for him. "You ever stop talking?" he teases, hips thrusting lightly against Harry's mouth.

"When I have something better to do." Harry takes the hint, slides his mouth over Karl's cock, sucks with exaggerated slurping at just the head, nothing more.

Karl groans, one hand going to the back of Harry's head, cupping but not pressing. Not yet. "Fucking tease," he murmurs.

"Not a tease," Harry murmurs, words obscured by cock in mouth, and he sinks lower, lips sliding over slickened flesh till he tastes nothing but Karl, sweaty and dripping.

"Oh, God," Karl chokes out, unable to resist thrusting now. Nothing major. Just the rocking of his hips, the press of his cock deep and still deeper until Harry pulls back or stops him.

Harry stops the thrusting with hands placed firmly on Karl's hips, pushing him back down into the bed. Harry's pace, not Karl's, and Harry wants it slow. He pulls up, licking and pressing his tongue along the underside, teeth settling against the tip this time. "Patience, Karl," he whispers, hot breath out over the head. "Remember."

Karl rolls his eyes. _Fuck patience_. But he stops thrusting, letting Harry have his way and savouring the skill of his mouth, teeth. _Christ_. He groans again, clenching the sheets in his fists.

_Good boy._ Harry doesn't say it, his mouth occupied as he takes Karl deep in his throat again, dragging back up with nips and going down again. He repeats the motion over and over, concentrating on shoving Karl closer to the edge of no control.

It doesn't take long before Karl's there. Right on the edge. "Close," he warns, letting Harry know so he can pull off if he wants to.

Harry slips his hand down between Karl's legs, curls his fingers around the heavy sac, squeezes. _Good. C'mon, boy, slip over._ He's not about to pull off, wants to taste Karl, see if it's as good as he's expecting.

It's the squeeze that does it, the tinge of pain just enough to push him over. He comes, hard and heavy but quiet, spilling down Harry's throat. "Oh, fuck," he murmurs, his grip on the sheets finally easing. "That was brilliant."

Swallowing's the easy part, gag reflex not even hinting at being a bother, and Harry sucks hard on Karl's cock, getting every drop before pulling back, licking over the bed. He pushes up on one elbow. "Not bad," he says, smirking. "Still a little matter of me. You wanna reciprocate or should I just fuck you?"

Karl shrugs lightly. He has no problem with being fucked. "I'm game for either. Any preference?"

"Hmm. Tough choice." Harry pushes back, kneeling up between Karl's legs. "Fuck sounds good to me. How much prep you need?"

"If the condom's lubed, not any," Karl says. "Want me to turn over?"

"Hands and knees would be great. I'll find a condom." Harry rolls back, to the side and off the bed. He walks the few steps to the dresser and rummages around on its top. Non-lubed, nearly all of them. _ Well, what does that say about you, Harry?_ But there's at least one, and he grabs it, ripping open the packet as he turns back to the bed, shaking it out and unrolling it over his cock. Stiff cock, that is, Harry smiling as he realizes just how hard he's gotten. He gives his cock another quick tug.

Karl rolls onto all fours. Having just come, no prep, he knows this is gonna hurt, but the pain is something he knows, something familiar, something to ground himself in. Harry seems to take forever getting the condom and Karl glances over his shoulder. "You actually planning on fucking me sometime this century?" he grins, knowing damn well what that ought to get him if he's judged Harry right.

What it gets Karl is a swift pop on the arse, palm flat and with damned good force. "That what you want?" He settles in behind Karl, places his cock against the hole and nudges forward. "Remember I said my pace." He pushes in, gripping Karl's waist with his hands, jerking Karl back as he moves forward.

"Fuck!" Karl yelps as Harry hits him, the pain searing through him, making his cock twitch. "Bastard," he growls, gritting his teeth as Harry pushes in, roughly breaching that tight ring of muscle.

"Never said I wasn't." Harry pushes steadily, not letting up until he's deep, the friction and clench of Karl's body around his cock making it damned near impossible, but, fuck, the pain's sweet. "C'mon, now, open up for me. Unless you want this to hurt for days."

"I _am_ fucking opening up for you," Karl growls again, pushing back into the pain, into the burn consuming him. And _Christ_, it's good. Exactly what he needs. Wants. "Harder, Harry. Just fuck me."

"Then you're damned tight, boy," Harry murmurs, not caring about the epithet. He pulls back, maybe an inch, no more, and drives forward again. "Fuck, yes." Repeats the movement, that rocking forward and backward, sinking deeper. He's not going to last long, either, the tug on his cock too intense, too perfect.

Karl shudders hard, head dropping to his arms, his back arched, legs spread wider for Harry, urging him deeper, his cock beginning to harden again. "Oh, God, Harry, yeah, fuck..."

Another half dozen thrusts and Harry's coming, spilling into the condom, holding steady deep inside Karl as he lets go of the last of it. "Bloody fucking perfect," he says, letting his weight fall against Karl's back. "Well worth the wait." He pulls back, out, kneeling back on the bed, hand wrapped around the base of his cock to keep the condom in place for a moment longer, just while he catches his breath, then he's rolling it off, climbing off the bed to walk to the bathroom, dispose of it.

A minute later, Harry's walking back into the bedroom, and he tosses a warm wet cloth in Karl's direction. "Thought you might wanna wipe off. You can take a full shower if you want," he says, nodding over his shoulder.

Catching the cloth, Karl cleans up quickly. "Nah, it's okay," he says, grabbing his jeans from the floor. "I'll shower back at my place." He glances over at Harry. "Can you call me a cab?" Assuming Harry's got better things to do than take him home.

"I can." Harry runs a hand through his hair. "Or you can just take my bike," he says, shrugging, "bring it over in a couple days when you come back."

Karl bites at his bottom lip, his earlier wariness returning full force. Tugs his t-shirt down over his head. "Why would you do that?" he asks. "You don't even know me."

"I know you'll come back." Harry reaches down, snags his jeans from the floor and tugs them on, leaving them half-buttoned, hanging on his hips. "That's all I need to know right now."

"Tell me you _want_ me to come back," Karl says, watching Harry.

_All right, we'll play the game._ "I want you to come back, Karl," Harry says, casual conversation with the slightest of smiles.

Karl nods once. "Then give me the keys," he says, holding out his hand.


End file.
